


Elephant and King

by linguamortua



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Character Study, Cyvasse, Dragonstone, Games, Gen, Insomnia, Trick or Treat 2018, Trick or Treat: Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-07-14 05:13:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16033694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua/pseuds/linguamortua
Summary: On a dark, sleepless night, Stannis finds some peaceful solitude.





	Elephant and King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Plaid_Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/gifts).



> Hello, friend! I was suddenly and bizarrely inspired to write this, a fic from a fandom I don't play in, rather than what we actually matched on. Inexplicable. I read ASOIAF some years ago; I hope this doesn't violate any important canon details.

It was dark and cold, and the wind was shrieking outside. One could almost imagine getting swept away into the churning sea; one could imagine themselves already freezing in its water, so chill was the night. All abed, the inhabitants of Dragonstone slumbered with mixed success. All but Stannis, who ghosted through the icy corridors in nightgown and slippers and a long, fur coat of beaver skins. A shielded lantern and a metal mug occupied his hands.

Along the perimeter of his rooms, and around the corner. Past Shireen’s room, and those of her tutor and her nurse. Down the side stairs, rarely occupied even in the daytime, and under the high, draughty arches of the west walkway. He pushed open a heavy, carved door with his shoulder. He knew the hinges wouldn’t squeak; he oiled them himself. The library was cold, too, but the books and parchments insulated it a little. It was very quiet here. He crossed the carpet and went to a narrow door, tucked away beside a bookshelf like an afterthought. A long, simple iron key unlocked it in a flash, and he closed it behind him. 

He lit a candle from the lamp, and the small room sprang into vibrant orange light. A desk and a chair were its only furniture, and it was a long way away from royal splendour, even in Dragonstone’s rough castle. And yet, an observant watcher might have seen a fraction of the tension leave his high, lined brow. And a smile, touching the corners of his thin mouth? Or perhaps just the candlelight. With a sigh, Stannis sank into an overstuffed armchair. The stuffing under one arm was starting to poke out, and the seat sagged somewhat. He pulled up his wool stockings a little further, and pulled a blanket from the back of a chair.

‘Where were we?’ he murmured. The room dampened his voice down. It was hung with a motley collection of old tapestries, faded and worn, and on the floor an ugly brown rug of the sort typically seen in stables, covering fractious old horses. Stannis’s retainers would have been very surprised to know that these relics of fibrecraft had been covertly carried to that disused storeroom one by one—by Stannis himself.

Cautiously, for the lamp cover was hot, Stannis touched his fingers to the metal to warm them. Then he leaned over the desk. Laid out before him, a week-old game of cyvasse. Its tiny dragons and trebuchets had been locked in stasis for three days and nights. Now insomnia had driven Stannis back to his tiny armies. He picked up his mug and took a mouthful of mulled wine. Gourmands might complain that reheating it with a hot poker had rendered it slightly bitter, but Stannis did not notice.

‘Jade to move,’ he said softly, and touched the smooth, curved back of a carved elephant. He moved it two places towards the ebony trebuchet. He turned the board and considered. How the pieces were worn in this old and beloved set. What memories he had of it. He slid a dragon diagonally, to block the jade elephant. It was the kind of daring move Renly would have made. He tried to respond to it as Renly might have. A lashing attack; the elephant side-stepped the dragon and the trebuchet, and took its ebony counterpart off the board. ‘I have you, villain,’ he told the imaginary ebony player in whimsical satisfaction. 

As if in response, the wind suddenly howled. Stannis heard it through the library. Some of the servants were known to suggest that Dragonstone was haunted. When a body was new to the island, the wind could sound an awful lot like a ghost at night. But there was only one soul haunting the castle, and his mind was on earthly pursuits.

‘Jade takes the king,’ said Stannis, knocking the ebony king over with his enterprising elephant. This time, he really did smile. He would teach Shireen that little gambit, soon. He reset the board and rolled the dice.

‘Ebony begins,’ he announced to the board. ‘Let’s see what the jade elephant can manage this time.’

Outside, the wind cried on.


End file.
